Broken Dreams
by jackala345
Summary: October 31, 1981. Lily and James gave up their lives to save their son. Lily's last thoughts.


**So.. I've been reading a lot of Lily and James' last moment fics lately, and I'd like to try one out for myself.**

**I know the timing is really random and everything, but still... :)**

**I'd like to thank LiLy-saLvatore-cuLLen for inspiring me, although s/he doesn't know that the fics that s/he writes are beautiful and heart-wrenching and amazing. Thank you!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Broken dreams are like broken glass, shattered pieces that weren't meant to last. Everything is a lie, you just have to pretend.<em>

_-Unknown_

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><p><span>Broken Dreams<span>

Some people have dreams.

Some people have dreams about their futures. They dream of perfection and of happiness and of friendship and of romance. They dream of kisses stolen in hot summer fields and of red roses mysteriously appearing on front porches and of heart-shaped valentines in cold frosty mailboxes. They dream that their own story, their own fairytale, their own happily ever after will come true.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lily Evans, and she had a dream.

She dreamed that one day she would find the perfect prince, with eyes the color of promises and a smile that lit up the world, and that they would fall in love at first sight. He would carry her off to his castle to be his bride, and they would get married under the brightest stars in a beautifully moonlit garden, her dressed in white silk that tumbled off of her in folds of hope and radiance, him in a snow-colored tuxedo with a pink corsage, and it would somehow not clash with the red hair that tangled from her head in the color of fire.

She dreamed that one day, all her dreams would magically come true.

James was not a perfect prince, and yet he was _her _perfect prince. In every world but hers, he would be someone who she detested, a mess of black hair and hazel eyes and gold-rimmed glasses thrown haphazardly into her life; a boy whose arrogance and good looks annoyed the hell out of her. His sparkling mischief sent her into a rage, his obvious Quidditch skills made her huff and turn pointedly away. And yet when fate reached out and twisted their two lives together in a knotted, snarled chaos of green eyes and audacious smirks, they both realized—they could make a fairytale of their own. And they both tried, to their very hardest, but somehow it wouldn't be the same, in the end.

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><p>It's Halloween night. The moon shines full in the clear black sky and trees stretch their shedding branches to the twinkling stars. Outside, the excited voices of children and adults alike float through the wooden door, the slightly open windows. Harry's already done with all his trick-or-treating—James plays with him in the living room, while you organize the remainder of the candy in the kitchen. The orange bowl is plastic and slippery in your hands; the wrappers crinkle in your palms. You're only half-paying attention to the sorting; Harry's laughs and James being dad-like reverberate throughout the house, and despite your best attempts, your lips curve up into a smile.<p>

The candy is all put away now. You set the bowl back on the cabinet and retreat into the living room, where James has Harry on his lap. They're both grinning like crazy and you can see the resemblance the two have as prominently as ever: the messy hair and the same boyish smirk, although Harry has your eyes, green and bright. As you watch, Harry gives a big yawn. His eyes screw shut for a moment and you smile again, thinking of how cute he looks.

"James, Harry has to go to bed now." Reluctant, because you can see that they're having so much fun together. James lets another puff of colored light expel from his wand tip before turning to you with an innocent pouty-face on, but you're not falling for it. "James. Now."

Harry's pudgy baby hands grab at the rainbow smoke and he giggles. So adorable. "Harry..." you coo, despite yourself, crossing quickly over to him and picking him up. He wriggles happily in your arms. "Harry, you gotta go to bed. Mommy's gonna take you to bed, 'kay?" He's heavy, already a year old, can you believe it? Already half grown up.

James yawns, tossing his wand onto the sofa as he raises his arms above his head and stretches. His shirt rides up in the front and shows off a flash of tanned, well-muscled stomach—your heart gives a pang. Maybe, after Harry falls asleep, you and him can spend some quality time together. It's been a while since you had enough time for that.

As your mind wanders, you cradle Harry in your arms and bounce him up and down slightly, humming softly in his ear. He smiles at you and sleepily blinks.

A crash.

The door flies off its hinges, the sound bursting through the quiet tranquility that comes with the moments in the evening when silence is low in the air, soft and serene. A whisper of cool October wind whisks into the house. You clutch Harry to your chest, and both you and James stand agape, facing the open doorway.

A man on the threshold. Red eyes like slits, pale, pale skin, wreathed in robes blacker than the darkest of dark nights. His long spidery fingers grasp a polished wand, his lipless mouth smiles heartlessly at you. He is tall and brings the musty smell of snakes and the feeling of cold cold cold death.

In the moments that follow, James is suddenly at your side, pushing at you, his hands on your shoulders. He's yelling, but you can barely make out his words:

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

The man laughs, and it cuts you to the bone. High-pitched and merciless and completely insanely hopeless, like a void of empty lost words that spiral into hell, never to be seen again. Somehow your feet comply with James' words, away away down the hallway they carry you and you are vaguely aware of Harry on your hip, he's thinking it's all a show so he's laughing, and your fingers clutch at the worn wood of the banister like a life line as you pull yourself, suddenly heavy, up the stairs.

When you get up two steps, no three, now, you turn, and hide Harry's face in the crook of your neck, unable to let him see—no, _James_.

He stands, straight-backed and proud, away from you, his hair's as messy as always, and you can't see his face, but you know he's trying to be brave, and he is, but—oh, James, this isn't the time for bravery, because your wand is on the sofa, you have no time to get it, and you can't face him, no no no you can't, James _no_, _stop_—and Voldemort's raising his wand high in the air, he's laughing as you watch, open-mouthed in horror, as James falters slightly in his stance, because he's scared and so are you, and suddenly—

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

You can't help it—you scream, because James can't be gone, no, he can't, it wasn't supposed to end like this. He's not supposed to go, it's—no no no you refuse to think about it even as James falls lifeless to the ground, his eyes open and his body already succumbed to death like those birds you used to see in the mornings at Hogwarts when it was icy and snowy, all huddled up in their feathers but cold to the touch, and you can't think about anything except how you're screaming, and as Voldemort turns towards you, you run, as fast as you can, run run run upstairs holding Harry to your chest now, knowing that those red eyes will get you but they won't get Harry, and James' death can't have been in vain—

You twist the doorknob and wrench the door open, then shut it behind you, dropping Harry in the crib. Piling everything you can find—rocking chair, dresser, boxes of unpacked baby clothes—against the door, searching your pockets, but you know your wand is downstairs where you left it on the counter when you were sorting the Halloween candy. Halloween, what a perfect time for this nightmare to be happening, tears running down your face so fast that your vision is blurred, and James James James is all that's going through your mind, because he's dead.

Harry lies in his crib, his eyes fixated on the little mobile with the happy smiling fuzzy zoo animals that plays tinkling little songs, completely unaware that his father has just died, that he is probably next. You can't blame him—he's just a little kid—and so you crouch down beside the white painted bars that you and James spent so much time lovingly painting the Muggle way and you clutch them in your hands.

"Harry," you whisper to him. "Harry. Listen to Mommy. Look at Mommy, now."

He turns to you, more at the sound of your voice than anything else, and you're struck by how _small_ he is all of a sudden, so vulnerable, and how much you love him, and what you'd do so he wouldn't die.

"Harry," you begin again, the tears falling fast and hard down your cheeks. "Harry, Mommy loves you, Daddy loves you, remember—"

The door hurtles open with a bang, and you whip around to see the tall, dark, death shadow looming in the doorway, its red eyes gleaming, long fingers wrapped around the wand that killed James, and suddenly you hate him, hate him so much because it's _his_ fault that your life has been torn apart like this in a matter of moments, it's _his_ fault that you and Harry and James will all be dead by the end of this night, it's all his fault...

The wand raises and you splay your arms out to the side, to protect Harry in his crib as he lies there innocently because he didn't do anything, and he can't die, he's your last promise from James that he loved you—

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now."

The cold high voice is like his laugh, devoid of anything except death promises and lightless life.

You don't really know what you say, you're babbling almost, the tears falling hot and fast, salty on your tongue. You know that you have your arms out around the bars of Harry's crib, and as if from a long distance you hear your voice, pleading:

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

The laugh, it drives you insane—

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy—"

The spider hand raises the slim polished stick which holds so much power, it towers high above your head and you can't do anything but look up at it—

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The spell lights up the room green, and the jet centered at your heart speeds towards you faster than light itself—

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><p>Some people have dreams.<p>

But there aren't enough happily ever afters for them all to come true.

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><p><strong>So did you like it? Hate it? Please let me know! Leave a review!<strong>

**Thanks,**  
><strong>jackala345<strong>


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